


What the Forest Holds

by ncfan



Series: Nan Elmoth [2]
Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Altered Mental States, Canon Relationship, Canon Speculation, Captivity, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-10
Updated: 2013-06-10
Packaged: 2017-12-14 13:19:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/837322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ncfan/pseuds/ncfan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All about her was the dark, and no matter where she turned, there was no chance of escape.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What the Forest Holds

The trees, tall and dark, stretched so far above that Aredhel could not see how tall they grew. There was no light, no undergrowth, no grass or bushes or ferns—her feet trod on dead leaves and cool, moist earth, and that alone. An eerie quiet pervaded, creeping on her shoulders and clinging to the hem of her green cloak. She feels as though small hands are tugging on her dress, her cloak, her hair, her bare skin, trying to draw her forwards, backwards, sideways and every direction in between.

She'd grown restless in Himlad, and had longed to lay eyes on the forest where it's said that the Maia Melian bewitched the Sindarin King long years ago. Her mount, though normally even-tempered and game for any journey, would not go into this forest, so Aredhel, her curiosity overwhelming and feeling little-inclined to convince her horse to act against its inclinations, dismounted and whispered for it to return to Himlad. She'd go on foot, and had no fear of returning the same way if need be.

At first, when Aredhel realized that she was lost in these woods, she felt no fear within her. She had faced far worse than being lost in a strange wood, and had been a hunter since her early youth. She knew forests, knew trees and the creatures that dwelt beneath them. Never did Aredhel before have any reason to suspect trees of malice. She would look about these woods, seek shelter from anyone who lived within them, and hopefully obtain their help in leaving the following morning.

_Finding a settlement shouldn't be too difficult. In a place such as this, even the light steps of the Eldar will be easily spotted._

Or so she had thought.

Aredhel did not know how long she had been wandering about in this dark place, though the mounting pain in the pit of her stomach told the tale of at least several hours. All the trees looked the same, even the ones she knew to be of different species. Oak, pine, elm, rowan, the color and texture of their barks, the thickness of their trunks and the shape and texture of their leaves all blended together. They shouldn't have look the same. But they did. They all looked exactly the same.

 _I can just imagine Turgon scolding me when I get home_ , she mused to herself, and Aredhel pretended not to notice the way even the voice of her mind shook. _I am not sure what he'll be more peeved over: that I strayed from Glorfindel and Ecthelion and Egalmoth in Nan Dungortheb, that I bid us travel through Nan Dungortheb in the first place, that I decided to ride out alone yet again to reach this place, or that, when my horse showed clear signs of being uneasy of these woods, I did not pay him heed. Still, if I am able to hear his voice again, even if it is only to be berated, I shall be glad._

 _Glorfindel and Ecthelion and Egalmoth, I think, will just be happy to see me still living._ Aredhel grimaced. _I hope Brother was not too wroth with them for returning without me._ She did not dwell on the possibility that they may never have left that fell place at all. _And this will be a pretty tale for Idril; I must find something to give her on the way back._

She quickly lost her way in this featureless forest, beyond recall, and in the dark, the endless dark with no hint of welcome light of moon or sun or stars, Aredhel felt trapped indeed.

-0-0-0-

Eventually, hunger and fatigue would overcome her and she would rest and eat, and sleep with her back against the great, cool damp trunk of some ancient tree, before rising and endeavoring again to find her way out of the forest, brushing twigs and dead leaves from her white skirt and bushy black hair.

Aredhel began to feel as though she was being watched. She would whip around and see something moving out of the corner of her eye, some shape darker and more solid than the gloom behind it, but whenever she would stalk over to investigate, there was nothing there. Jaw set in a stubborn scowl, she would call out for this other being to show themselves, and be greeted only by silence. Not even birdsong could be heard in the gloom. All Aredhel would hear in response was the faint echo of her own voice, and the reminder that she was alone here.

Alone. Completely alone.

She continued on like this, trying to quell her mounting fear and desperation to hear another's voice, until the time came when she settled down to eat and rest, only to discover that she had no food left.

-0-0-0-

She had no idea how long she had been there. She had no idea how long it had been since she had last eaten or drank. She had found no rivers, nor streams, nor even dark pools nestled within the trees and earth. There were no animals to be found here, and even if there were, Aredhel had not her bow for large game, nor any of the tools with which to make a trap for smaller prey, only a curved hand knife that would serve her little good. Her steps were beginning to totter, though she, proud Lady of the Noldor, endeavored to conceal it even though she knew that she was not being watched.

Or so Aredhel tried to tell herself that she was not being watched. She still felt as though there were eyes burning into the back of her neck, and still felt as though tiny unseen hands were tugging on her all over, but stronger now, and forwards, ever forwards.

Never did Aredhel think that she would die like this. Not once in her life, not even on the Helcaraxë, did she think that she would die for want of sustenance. She did not think that she would starve, or die of thirst. She did not think that she would die alone, utterly alone, with only the trees to bear witness and the earth to reclaim her body. She did not think that her family would be left to wonder in worry and doubt, never knowing for sure if she had passed out of the world to Mandos's Halls. Never—

Without warning, someone stepped out from behind a tree right in front of her. Aredhel barely bit back a scream, cursing herself all the while for feeling the impulse in the first place, cursing herself for being unable to calm her wildly beating heart.

The stranger, she saw, was an Elf like herself, dressed in dark clothes (Which might go a long way towards explaining how she could have been oblivious to his presence until now). Tall and broad-shouldered, he had the pallor of one who rarely, if ever, walked out from under the trees. He was grim of countenance, mouth set in a frown, and Aredhel took one look at him and knew that he was one of the Moriquendi. This was not one who had ever seen the light of the Trees in his dark eyes.

For a long moment, there was naught but silence. The other Elf stared at her, eyes piercing, wordless, as though he had never seen anything quite like her before. Aredhel would be lying if she said that she didn't find it unsettling, but never would she let that show, and she met his gaze squarely, still trying to quell her pulse and searching in her mind for anything to say that would not make her sound like a callow, feckless Elfling.

"I had not thought to find anyone living in this forest," she said finally, her voice strangely brittle. She spoke in Sindarin, knowing that if this was not one of the Noldor than he probably adhered to Thingol's ban on Quenya. "It had seemed to me that this place was uninhabited."

He shook his head. "Nay, pretty one. I and my household dwell here."

Aredhel scowled at him, tipping her chin up and drawing to her full height, forgetting for one moment her hunger and fatigue. "My _name_ is Aredhel, daughter of Fingolfin, of Gondolin." And she would not abide with being called "pretty one" by any strange Elf who happened to cross her path.

Something bright and hungry flickered in his eyes, gone so quick that Aredhel had not the time to identify it. "I am Eöl, of Nan Elmoth," he replied in kind, speaking quietly and in the sort of stiff tones that gave Aredhel the impression that he rarely had someone of his own kind and on a relatively equal footing socially to speak to. "Are you seeking shelter?"

He held out his hand. After a moment's hesitation, Aredhel's exhaustion overcame her, and she reached out her own white-gloved hand, and he led her through the gloom.

-0-0-0-

It was not a long walk from where they had met to Eöl's home, a hall carved into a dark, deep-delving cave. It was such a short walk, in fact, that Aredhel realized that she must have been stumbling back and forth over the path that led to it, and never noticed, something that caused her no small amount of embarrassment, though she did not let that show to her rescuer. She instead thanked the stars that she had come across a dweller of these woods, and that he was willing to give her shelter.

And soon, she was trapped in Eöl's shadowy halls, even more than she had been in the forests of Nan Elmoth.

Aredhel did not know how long she had been there. There was no way to tell for sure the passage of time, in this cool, dark, damp world where neither sun nor moon nor stars could be found. It had started when she ate the food provided to her, duck and cheese and fresh apples. So hungry was she that Aredhel had not stopped to wonder where Eöl had gotten fresh fruit at this time of year, nor had she paused to wonder where he had come by waterfowl given that there were, as far as she knew, no rivers running through nor lakes in Nan Elmoth, and it didn't have the taste of having been cured. So hungry was she that Aredhel did not pause to give voice to caution, and wonder why her host would not eat himself, but only watch her intently as she emptied her plate.

After that, the world seemed for a long time as though locked in a haze. There were others here, servants of the household, but they were dark and silent and wraith-like, stepping briefly out of the shadows only to vanish back into them. They would not speak to her, nor give her their names. It felt as though she and her host were the only living beings left in all the world.

Aredhel had meant to stay for only one night, and then ask Eöl to show her the way out of the forest the next morning. However, the reason for her urgency escaped her. She could not recall why she had so urgently sought a road back to the sunlit lands. She tarried in Nan Elmoth, one day, two, three, four, until it seemed to her as though Gondolin, Vinyamar, and Aman had been naught but distant, fairytale dreams. She tarried until the Moon and Sun and stars seemed like daydreams devised by a child. She began to have difficulty remembering the faces of her family and friends. Then their names. Then, she began to wonder exactly who they had been to her to start with, and why these people would cry out desperately in her dreams, calling her name.

Years later, when the haze wore off, Aredhel would recall little of how she came to be Eöl's wife. She had never wished to be married. She had never wished to be anyone's wife, nor had she wished to be the mother of any children. She recalled fingers digging into her hips and hot breath on her neck. She recalled something of his sweet-tongued words, and recalled not being unwilling, despite never before having wished to be wed. It seemed odd to her, that she loved him, as though there was something slightly off about the situation that she didn't understand. When he said to her that he loved her and she looked into his eyes, she could see nothing but honesty, but when she replied in kind, something in her voice rang false, but she couldn't say what.

She became a feature of these halls, as much as the flickering torches with their faint green hue, as much as the faint ringing of metal from Eöl's forge, as much as the wraith-like servants. She felt like a shadow given form, insubstantial, depending on the darkness for life. Occasionally, Aredhel would find herself in the forest, and not know where she was going, or even recall how she had come to be there in the first place. She would wander about in a daze, feeling as though some crushing, suffocating fog was lifting from her, but always her steps would lead her back to the hall carved deep in the cave in the heart of Nan Elmoth, where her husband waited, all concern over how she had taken a walk and grown confused, disoriented. _You are unwell,_ he would tell her soothingly, drawing her by the hand back into the hall. _Lie down, and rest. Eat something. You will feel better._

Ensnared she was, Aredhel realized, but too late. All about her was the dark, and no matter where she turned, there was no chance of escape. Oftentimes, she could barely recall why she wished to escape at all. The gloom of Nan Elmoth had already claimed her for its own.


End file.
